


The Genius Hacker's Guide To Saving Your Idiot Brother

by Maple_trees



Category: Mystic Messenger
Genre: Angst, Blood, Creepy cult psychological influence, Depression, Drugging, Fluff, Gen, Guns and gun violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Major Character Death (Rika in the beginning), Multiple Personalities, Murder, Past Child Abuse, Redemption Arcs, Yeah the twins have been through the war and this fic reflects that, injuries, no betas we die like men, sibling dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29553426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple_trees/pseuds/Maple_trees
Summary: Saeran has never managed to keep out of trouble. From failed hacker battles to regular cleansing ceremonies to the inherent instability that was life at Mint Eye, he had come to accept chaos as a natural part of his life. He just never expected to be framed for Rika's murder.Seven has never enjoyed his work as an informant. When a rival agency starts targeting him, he knows it's time for the inevitable - don a new identity and cut ties with his friends forever. But with danger threatening to befall those he loves, is it any wonder that he drags his feet?Ray has been dormant for years. Relegated to a corner of Saeran's mind, he knew his place - a pathetic, useless weakling who had failed to prove his worth. But with the truth of the Savior's death in his hands, and a fundamental mistrust of his other self, he can no longer find it in him to stay silent.Forces outside of their control have always determined their fate, but they can't afford to lose this time. To survive this round of life, the twins must re-learn how to rely on each other.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	The Genius Hacker's Guide To Saving Your Idiot Brother

**Author's Note:**

> So ... basically one day I had this thought: exactly how would it play out if the twins were forced to work together for once, before they had resolved their underlying issues with each other? 
> 
> This fic is an exploration of that idea. 
> 
> This is going to be a sibling-centered story, focusing on the relationship between Seven, Ray, and Saeran. I really love Mystic Messenger ... but I'm not sure the game does a great job in fleshing out the relationship between the twins. We do get some flashback scenes to their childhood, and some dialogue by way of the Secret Endings and Ray's After Ending, but I still feel like that leaves a lot of questions unanswered. How did Saeran come to mean so much to Seven? And in spite of that, why was Seven so willing to leave him behind, to the point where he never checked for himself that his brother was doing okay? This story will try to address these questions. 
> 
> One last thing I want to mention is that although I've included both Ray and Saeran, this fic doesn't take place in Another Story. We're actually post-Good Ending of another character's route (and you might even be able to guess which one!). I just love those two to death and couldn't resist incorporating them both - but hopefully it'll be done in a way that makes sense. 
> 
> Okay, that's all from me! I hope you guys enjoy, and this story isn't too crazy / out there of an idea. Also please be mindful of tags - we're really going to be exploring some dark topics.

Ray fled.

He had been running for a while, nearly a day and a half, in fact, but neither his aching legs, nor the knot in his stomach, nor the blood pooling from cuts on his face and arms slowed him down.

He was running like his life depended on it, because it did.

“It wasn’t me,” he pled with his pursuers, in between gasps of breath. “It wasn’t me … it wasn’t…”

It didn’t matter anyway; even if those that sought him could have heard, he would be dead. Ray paused for a moment as he came to a road, gave a quick glance around, then dashed to the other side, plunging into the forest again. He had to get out of here … he had to get off this mountain. Mint Eye had been the only home he had ever had worth mentioning, but if one of the cult members saw him now, they would shoot him on sight.

_But it wasn’t me … it wasn’t me … wasn’t me …_

It didn’t matter, because what he had seen hadn’t mattered. No, it mattered what _they_ had seen, the other members of his cult, his family, when they had found both him and the Savior in the garden. The Savior, at his feet, bloody and dead. Ray, staring down at her with a horrified look on his face.

Holding a gun.

In the end, that was the only detail that was going to matter. Ray knew that against the outrage at such a horrifying event, his own testimony would be worthless. And besides, Mint Eye knew that he was not the most stable personality to begin with. They knew of his recent quarrel with the Savior, too. Though Ray had desperately, desperately tried to understand her reasoning, Saeran…

Saeran was the reason he was in this fucking mess.

His latest argument with the Savior flashed before his eyes. Ray had tried to be patient, to understand, but Saeran had absolutely exploded in fury. Then, before he could be disciplined, he had left undismissed, leaving a throng of believers muttering angrily in his wake.

Then, things had went south.

Saeran had dealt with his rage the usual way, by locking himself in the information room, but tonight, the neat lines of code he wrote, the rules and patterns his mind had been trained to follow, had brought no comfort. Furious, Saeran had then fled to Ray’s room, all the while plotting an escape from Mint Eye.

Ray had pleaded with him. _You can’t … Stay … This is your only home … She_ must _have a reason …_

As usual, his supplications had been meant with a stormy silence.

But not even the privacy of Ray’s own room had comforted Saeran. And then, strangely enough, he had decided to go into the garden.

Ray still didn’t fully understand this. As far as he knew, Saeran absolutely hated his hobby. He could hear his double snarling in his ear whenever he watered his plants, or downloaded another botany ebook.

So why had he made the decision? Maybe Saeran had known the garden was the one place most people knew to leave Ray alone. Maybe he had even gone there looking for the same solace Ray experienced there himself.

Regardless of the reason, the Savior had approached him. And, to his surprise, had wanted to speak to Saeran, not Ray.

They had walked a while on that moonless night, talking of things Ray couldn’t quite recall. He had the impression, though, that Saeran had ended up calming down, because there was no way he could have heard what he did if Saeran had been yelling.

Footsteps. The sound of people approaching. Saeran, suspicious bastard that he was, had called out for them to identify themselves, and when no reply came, had drawn his weapon. He had thrown the Savior behind him, who at this point was telling him to calm down, trying to place himself in between her and where he thought the threat was coming from.

He chose wrong.

A single gunshot echoed through the night, instantly putting all of Mint Eye on alert and killing the only person who had ever truly loved him. Ray didn’t remember much after that. He recalled fragments of the assailants (had there been more than one?) fleeing, two believers trying to apprehend him, the cool metal under his fingers as he climbed over a gate. He had fully come to himself paradise-knew-how-long later in the forest, at the sound of angry shouts behind him. This had prompted a full-on sprint, which, aside from short breaks, Ray had been sustaining since.

Ray didn’t know how far behind him his pursuers were. Frankly, as long as he was on this mountain, the answer was going to be _not far enough_. Mint Eye was never going to be able to forgive what had happened tonight. Ray couldn’t blame them.

He felt something harden inside him. No, he was never going to be able to let go of tonight either. Someone, some person had just ended everything for him - everything he had worked for, had cared for, had loved.

In the midst of his anguished sobs, Ray swore he was going to find that person.

And he was going to kill them.

* * *

Deep in the heart of Jingerbread City, in the empty halls of a poorly lit convenience store, the great defender of justice, Agent 707, was …

Contemplating the price of vegetables.

Seven sighed as he tossed a head of lettuce into his cart. Talk about bad luck. Its nutritional value was virtually nonexistent, but it would have to serve as a meal tonight. He would have loved to buy something more sustaining - for example, a potato - but most of his stack of cash was already going to some other, more necessary purchases.

That was the problem of being a secret agent. You could be the richest man in the world, but without any credit or debit cards to your name, you were pretty much stuck with whatever cash amount you had last withdrawn from an ATM. And Seven didn’t have it in him to go hunting for one right now.

Something buzzed in his pocket. Seven stopped, clenched his teeth, and with one hand fished his phone out, trying to move as little as the rest of his body as possible. He hoped it wasn’t Vanderwood. He _really_ hoped to God it wasn’t…

“Hey kid,” came a familiar voice. “Where the hell are you?”

_Fuck._

Despite everything, Seven forced a smile. The last thing he wanted tonight was for Super Duper Scary Agent Maid Mary Vanderwood, Pain In The Ass First Class, to hear him whine. The past few days had been humiliating enough. 

“Oh, you know, I’m just out.”  
There was an annoyed pause. “I said _where the hell are you_ , kid.”

“I said I’m out…”

“ _Agent Seven…_ ”

“At a convenience store. I’m at a convenience store.” Seven eyed his surroundings. “A perfectly respectable convenience store, too. Nope, no suspicious activity to report here, AgentVanderwood. This convenience store could be a model of citizenship to other convenience stores, I dare say. Although their vegetables are a bit overpriced…”

“Just tell me you’re coming home soon.”

“Hmm…”

“ _Agent Seven…”_

“ _Hmm_ …” Seven paused for emphasis. “I would say … yes, Agent Vanderwood, I should be! Due to the lack of suspicious activity to report, there is absolutely no reason to continue my patrol of this perfectly safe convenience store. Please stand by to receive my glorious presence at home! Agent 707, over and out!”

He was just about to hang up, when Vanderwood spoke again. “You know, I’m on hold with the agency right now.”

Seven felt the smile freeze on his face. He brought the phone back up to his ear. “Oh … is that so?”

“Yeah. It sounds like they have some important new case to give you … something big. Anyway,” Vanderwood’s voice became cynical, “wouldn’t it make more sense for _you_ to take this call?”

“I … I just got back from something big.”

“ _Oh, really_.” Those had been the entirely wrong words to say. “Well, I’ll make sure to pass that on to the agency. I’m sure they’ll love to hear your own personal feedback on this decision.”

“No … no …” Seven was glad Vanderwood was only mostly joking. “Look, who are you on the line with right now?”

“ _It doesn’t matter if I’m on the line with the fucking janitor. Get you ass back home and take this call, before you embarrass both of us further with you complete lack of personal responsibility.”_

Seven groaned. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

  
“Be home in ten minutes.”

“Uh … I’m not sure I can promise that?”

“ _Ten minutes, Luciel, or so help me-“_

Seven never learned what he was going to threaten, because he hung up on him. He shoved his phone back in his pocket, ignoring the screaming ache in his shoulder.

God … just a few days to rest after his latest mission, was that really so much to ask for? He had already been gone for a week, and it wasn’t as if the agency didn’t know how taxing these missions were. And now, it looked as if they were ready to send him on another one.

Well, fine. It wasn’t the first time Seven had been subjected to ridiculous wage slave workloads. Only, if the agency really expected loyalty from its employees, it would do well to treat them like actual people. People who could crack under pressure, like, say, accidentally corrupt the very files they had been sent to retrieve, or…

_No, no, I’m pretty sure that’s how I get myself killed_. Such passive aggressive tactics might work at normal day jobs. At Seven’s company, though, they would only serve to send a bullet through his head. Not to get a message across.

_Well, at least I’ll have tonight to rest_. It was nearly midnight, and whatever the agency needed him to do, he doubted it couldn’t wait until the morrow. He could go home, take the call, get a glorious five hours of sleep, and then wake up bright and early to start his mission.

Well, what a comforting thought that was. Seven began to push his cart toward the cashier. If he hurried, he might be able to make it closer to six hours of sleep …

The cashier looked over his purchases with a bewildered eye. “Tylenol, bandages, and … lettuce? Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes, that’s it.” Seven watched impatiently as the cashier began to bag his things.

“I don’t understand…” the man looked at Seven’s face, then back at his things, trying and failing to produce some sort of story. “Does the lettuce serve some sort of medicinal purpose?”

“You could say that.” Before the man could ask any more questions, Seven thrust a bill into his hands. “Keep the change.”

And with that, he marched out of the store.

The night air held a sort of sting to it, a herald of the changing of the seasons. Seven found that he didn’t mind it much; its coolness was a balm to his aching body. He inhaled deeply and began to search the side of the road for his car.

He couldn’t have said what alerted him. Maybe it was the agency training that Vanderwood continuously drilled into him, or maybe some leftover adrenaline in his system left him more keyed-up than usual. Regardless, when he saw the shadows move in the corner of his eye, his first instinct wasn’t to turn, but to crouch …

_Crack. Crack._ A gun barked twice in the night. Seven hit the ground, hands over his ears, glancing up to where the sound was coming from. The man who stood there was young-ish, maybe five years older than him, and clearly surprised that his target wasn’t already dead.

That was as good a look as Seven got, because immediately after he was sprinting for cover.

_Shit shit shit shit …_ Seven yelped as he heard the gun go off again, crying out when he saw the bullet race past him and shatter the glass window of somebody’s car. He increased his speed, knowing his luck couldn’t hold out for much longer, and threw himself into a forward roll, coming to rest behind the protective stance of a parked truck.

Seven lay there, panting and trembling, then checked himself over for any unauthorized punctures in his skin. No damage.

What the hell? Just … what the hell? Who was trying to kill him? Highly trained people like Vanderwood might regularly engage in shoot-outs, but Seven knew that hackers like him were regarded as the lowly offscourings of the underbelly of the secret agent world, necessary but hardly respectable. If caught, they were killed out of hand, but the impersonal nature of their work meant that they were hardly ever seen, and in general folks responded to the threat of hackers by hiring better, cleverer hackers.

Not by sending a _fucking hitman_ after them.

Seven curled into a ball on the pavement, looking around desperately for some kind of escape route. He wasn’t idiot enough to sneak a peak to see if his attacker was still after him, but he didn’t intend to wait until he was caught either. Unfortunately, none seemed readily available. The truck was parked at an intersection, the road to the convenience store crossing with a well-lit street that had absolutely nothing that could stand in the way of a seeking bullet. Of course, Seven could see some dark alleys branching off the street, but he didn’t know this part of the city that well, and for all he knew those routes would lead right into a dead end, pinning him in and making his attacker’s job that much easier.

His heart hammered in his chest as he contemplated. Should he pick the route that lead to certain death, or definite death?

And just then, his phone started buzzing.

Seven hung up immediately, suppressing a disgusted snort as he saw the caller ID. _Vanderwood again_. Well, whatever job the agency wanted him to do, it didn’t look like he would be alive enough long to do it. Seven dug his fingers into his hair and tried to think of something … _anything_ , he could do to improve this situation. Running would certainly be futile, so that left … talking? Would it possible to offer up information in exchange for his life? That sounded unlikely, but he was out of options … and his years at the agency had afforded him many secrets …

“Damn it, he was _right the hell there._ How could you miss?”

Seven froze. Was that … a woman’s voice? But he was pretty sure his attacker was male …

“I know, I know … did you see where he ran?”

“Me? I was making sure _you_ weren’t dead, when you fell.”

“Damn it, if I hadn’t tripped, I’d have gotten him for sure!”

Seven clutched the cross around his next and sent up a prayer of thanks. This idiot’s incompetence had probably saved his life.

“Well, let’s fan out. He can’t have gone far.”

Seven froze. Was that … another voice?

How many people had been sent to kill him?

_Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz._

Seven flinched at the sudden vibration, then quickly dug his phone out of his pocket and silenced it again. No point in answering, not even to cry for help. No way Vanderwood could get here in time to save his sorry ass.

Anyway, his attackers were closing in on him. Seven pulled himself up on the pavement, preparing for a sprint. With three people after him, there was no way he was making it out of this one alive. Still, he had to try…

_Bzzzz._

_God_ _damn_ _it_ , _Vanderwood_! Seven hesitated one moment, caught between wanting to quiet his cell and running as far away from danger as he could.

That moment of hesitation saved his life.

“Hold it, _hold it_.” Seven pricked his ears at a fourth voice. “We need to call this off, right now.”

There was a pause. “What? But he’s _right here-_ “

“I just got a call from boss. He was spotted a few blocks away. Let’s move.”

“A few blocks? I didn’t see-“

“Let’s _move!_ This one is a genius, all right? You should _expect_ stuff like this!”

There were some mumbles of consent, and then the sound of car doors being slammed. Seven barely had time to wedge himself underneath the truck before he saw a car speed off, down the street that had been his only hope of escape a few seconds ago.

Seven let out an exhale, and felt his entire body go limp with relief. Whatever poor bastard had been mistaken for him, he hoped those assholes realized their mistake before they-

_Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz._

Seven cursed, and with shaking hands accepted the call.

“What?” he demanded.

“ _Kid, where are you?!_ ”

“What, Vanderwood? Don’t tell me you secretly miss me? All these calls are starting to give me the wrong idea …”

Seven heard a sigh on the other end of the line, then a muttered, “He’s alive.”

“Listen, kid, the agency called me. We have reports of an armed squad sent to take you out.”

Seven snorted. “You mean, that wasn’t your welcoming committee? Oh, Vanderwood, don’t tell me that! I already gave them your address and everything, to return the favor in the future …”

“I … what? Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Seven began to struggle out from underneath the truck. “I’m kidding.”

“What happened?”

“Oh … nothing much. Was shot at a few times, escaped by the skin of my teeth, all in a day’s work, you know?” Seven grunted as he sat up. “I got lucky. Somebody clued them in about a sighting or something a few blocks away, and they thought that person was me.”

“Are they gone now?”

“Yup. Pretty sure. I did lose my groceries, though. Hey Vanderwood, do you think the agency could compensate me a head of lettuce?”

“Kid, I don’t know how you haven’t noticed this, but this isn’t the time for jokes.”

“There is _always_ time to focus on the brighter side of life, Agent Vanderwood.”

“Listen … don’t come home, kid.”  
“Huh … what? Oh _come on_ , babe, don’t do this to me … We can work this out …”

“Kid, _do not call me-“_ Seven heard a shaky intake of breath. “Luciel. Please. I don’t know where you’re hiding, but as long as it’s safe, _stay there_. _Do not_ attempt to come home right now.”

Seven scratched his head. “Why? I don’t know who those people were, but they’re gone now. The city is big. It’s unlikely they’ll find me again.”

“That … that’s not the only squad after you tonight, kid.”

Seven froze. “ _What?_ ”

“Yeah … look, our people are trying to head them off, but so far we have intelligence of up to eleven different squads sent to hunt you down. And … there could always be more. Keep your guard up, kid. Find a safe place to hide out. Don’t come home.”

Seven muttered something vaguely affirmative as he hung up. He sagged against the truck, staring up at the stars.

_Eleven_ different squads?

What the fuck was going on?

* * *

Ray hated the city. It was home to all his worst memories, it had virtually no plant life to speak of, and it stank like the plague.

But, in terms of losing the people who had set out to kill you, it was a pretty good hiding place.

Ray lifted his head from his knees and tried once more to convince his body to move. He hadn’t meant to collapse like this. He had only thought to take advantage of the long shadows around this building to drink a water bottle bought from a street vendor a few hours ago. But the combination of fatigue, fear, hunger, and thirst over the past few days had driven his body to the brink. The moment he sat down, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to move for a while.

Now, though, a few hours had passed. Ray experimentally flexed his limbs. While he was delighted to find them obeying his commands, a burning pain in his legs deterred him from moving any further. Frustrated, he sagged back against the building.

_This will never do. This is no proper hiding place_. Ray glanced around the street. It was empty … for now. _If any member of Mint Eye spots me, I’m a sitting duck._

Well, at least no one knew where to look for him. That was the main reason Ray had headed to the city. When tracking a person through the forest, you could be reasonably sure your target was the one you were seeking. Here, Ray intended to lose himself among the tracks of thousands of different people.

Of course, the city’s potential as a place for gathering intel could not be overlooked.

Ray glanced up at the thin crescent moon which poked between the clouds, and at the few stars that could be seen in the sky. Normally, such sights brought him comfort, but now they served to remind him of how far he was from home. He felt a lump in his throat. He was probably not going to see a clear night sky, framed under the branches of of wild mountain trees, for a long while, possibly ever. It was very likely that last night had been his last night spent on the mountain.

Yes … someone had snatched his home from him, the only place he had ever felt safe and happy. _Someone is going to pay dearly for what they took from me_. Anger lent him strength, and he found he could push himself on to shaky legs and take a few uncertain steps. When the urge to collapse again faded, he began to walk. It hurt, but Ray had been functioning near the ends of his capacity for most of his life. This was simply an extension of that.

Ray didn’t know where he was going, but the end goal in his mind remained as clear as ever: find who had killed the Savior, hunt them down, and kill them. Every action he took after this moment had to be in service to this greater goal.

So … he needed to find a place to sleep tonight, something more permanent than the foot of a building. Saeran, that bastard, had been good for something after all: he had had the foresight to shove Ray’s wallet into his pocket before he left. Ray would maybe be able to afford a small place to sleep tonight and some food. Afterwards, he would have to find some way to support himself, not a worry with his technical skills, and begin doing research on any of Mint Eye’s enemies.

It was a straightforward enough plan, and that made Ray feel better. He estimated that once he got access to his own laptop, it would take maybe three days tops before he found the culprits. How long it would take to hunt them down would be another matter. It would be unlikely that he could rally anybody from Mint Eye to his side, so that meant Ray would have to take them out himself.

That … that could prove difficult.

Ray shivered in the cold night air, then shrugged. So what? Without a paradise to dedicate himself to, his life was basically worthless. But he had sworn an oath in the service of Mint Eye and he intended to keep it. At the very least, he would be extracting vengeance. At the most, he could be protecting the remaining members of his family from further harm.

And if at the end of all this Mint Eye decided it still wanted him dead, well … _For eternal paradise_. He was still a member of that family. He would accept the decisions they made.

_So why_ , a voice haunted his ear, _couldn’t you accept the decision the Savior herself made?_

Ray stopped in his tracks, heart in his throat. With a disgusted grunt, he resumed walking. _So,_ he snapped at Saeran, _you choose now to make a reappearance._

_I am making a valid point_.

_Your point?_ Ray scoffed. _You were the one who objected to the Savior, not I._

_Not completely true. I remember you crying for her to reverse her decision_.

Ray set his teeth.

_And you were right. It was a stupid decision. Do you know why you didn’t want to go along with it? Because for once you had enough foresight to see that it would fail_.

_Shut up. I don’t want to talk to you. You’re …_ Ray choked back a sob. _You’re the reason Savior is dead! If you hadn’t been in that garden … !_

For a moment, Saeran was silent. The calm before the storm. _I TRIED TO PROTECT HER_.

“And how did that go? You didn’t even see the face of her killer!”

_AT LEAST I WAS TRYING TO HELP, INSTEAD OF RUNNING AWAY LIKE YOU ARE NOW, COWARD._

“Coward?! You’re calling _me_ the coward!”

_I am._ Saeran’s voice quieted. _You’d rather throw your life away on this stupid vendetta mission, instead of live with the consequences of what happened. The Savior might be dead. But her vision for paradise must go on._

“I …” _I can’t accomplish any of that._

_If not you, who else? Who else was closest to the Savior before she died? Who else knew her plans best? You did. I did. And you would throw that away with your life._

_SHUT UP._ Ray snarled in his head with such ferocity that Saeran fell silent. _Shut UP. I know what you’re after. Power. Huh … I should’ve known that even after all of this, you would just be looking out for yourself._

_THAT IS NOT TRUE AND YOU KNOW IT!_

_Just can it, Saeran_. Ray kicked a rock down the street, a blow he couldn’t deliver to the double in his head. He was suddenly tired. Well, more tired. _Just be quiet. I hate you. I hate you for this mess you’ve gotten me and Mint Eye in_.

“Who’s there?”

Ray froze.

“I said, who’s there?”

“I …” Ray realized with a start that his feet had taken him nearly straight into a group of people, huddled around a parked car. He had been too lost in his thoughts to notice. “Sorry … sorry.”

“Do you want something?”

“No … excuse me, I was distracted. I’ll leave you alone now.” Ray turned and began to walk away quickly.

Now that was close. Ray wasn’t very worldly, but even so something told him those people were up to no good. He didn’t know what crimes took place in the city after dark, and he had no intention of finding out.

“Wait a minute …”

“Calm down, Minsu, it was just a civilian.”

Civilian? Did criminals not consider themselves civilians?

“I said wait!”

Ray stopped and turned, shielding his eyes from the sudden flashlight in his face. “I really didn’t mean any-“ He stopped mid-sentence. The man shining the light at him was inadvertently illuminating his friends as well. Ray counted four or five men and women, mostly young and oddly well-dressed, staring at him in suspicion. Half had some sort of earpiece in, and nearly all had a foreboding bulge around their pockets. If Ray watched more movies, he might have said these people looked like …

“ _That’s him!_ ”

…professional killers.

Ray turned and fled, throwing himself down the nearest alley. A gun barked once just as he turned the corner. Gasping, he increased his speed, aching legs long forgotten.

This was impossible. There was no way ever that Mint Eye would hire professional killers to come after him. The Savior had always been explicit that Believers dealt with internal disputes themselves.

Only … they did think that he had killed her. And Ray himself would have considered such a crime justification enough to violate their tradition. 

Ray stumbled as a sudden darkness rose in front of him, slowing down just enough to avoid crashing into a brick wall. They alley was a dead end. He was trapped. He looked around desperately, and for a moment patted his back to where he had concealed his gun. But four against one? Those were awful odds.

This was it. He was going to die here. He was …

Saeran felt his purchase slip, and swung himself upward, searching for more handholds and footholds in the dark. The mortar had chipped enough between bricks that the wall was no longer smooth, providing places he could wedge his fingers and toes. His shoes hung from his mouth, carried by the laces. It undignified as hell, but he’d be _damned_ if he let that idiot Ray get him killed tonight.

Saeran reached the top just as he heard voices in the alley. It was dark enough that he probably hadn’t been noticed … yet. He flipped himself over to begin his descent.

About halfway down, his fingers slipped and he felt the heart-wrenching sensation of free fall …

Ray landed heavily on the pavement, stomach first, bashing his chin and getting the wind knocked out of him.

For a moment he lay there, painfully gasping for breath and wondering why he wasn’t dead yet.

“Damn it, where did he go?”

“He has to be hiding here somewhere … check behind that dumpster.”

_RUN, YOU IDIOT_.

_Of course_. Secondhand memories flooded Ray, and he staggered to his feet. They would be coming to the obvious conclusion before long. He shoved his feet back into his shoes and took off at a dead run, intending to get as far away as possible.

* * *

Seven was honestly wondering if he would survive the night.

He had avoided two more of the murder squads and had nearly stumbled across a third. The brief glimpses had given him enough information to draw certain conclusions. First: these people knew what they were doing. He couldn’t be completely sure with only three encounters, but they seemed to be spaced somewhat regularly apart, and he had heard them talking. They were in communication with each other. They used professional terms like “civilian”, “intended target”, and “let’s take out the fucking trash.”

Second: they were looking. Vanderwood had told him to stay put, but Seven knew once his attackers discovered they were mistaken, they would immediately return to that street outside the convenience store. He didn’t want to be there when they did, and so he had skulked around the city like a ghost, like the creeping lowlife that he was, laying low and trying to find out what he could.

The first murder squad had been quiet, staying put around their vehicle but obviously keeping a lookout. The second he had seen from afar, searching a street. Seven had ducked down an alley to avoid them and had just barely avoided running into members from murder squad number three, who were intent on searching the back streets.

They knew he was gone. They knew that, without a car that he didn’t dare to go back to now, he couldn’t have gone far. They were looking for him.

And that led him to conclusion number three: barring the incidence of some miracle of God, he was absolutely fucked.

Seven huddled on the stairs that served as the side entrance to some closed pub. If Vanderwood could have seen him now, he’d probably shoot him just to demonstrate how exposed he was. He didn’t care. There was no way he was getting out of this one alive, so what was the point … ?

Seven didn’t like the work he did. He didn’t like the secrets and lies he had to dig up just to give some third party the upper hand, or that his targets, who sometimes were better people than his clients, ended up succumbing to extortion and blackmail just to keep presenting a clean slate to the public. Oh, his work was interesting enough, and in the beginning being a secret agent was fun. A younger Seven had thought he was using his skills to bring about a more just and fair world, to right wrongs the law just couldn’t touch.

Now, he knew better. It was all just senseless backstabbing and double-crossing, where the winners of the game were the ones who weren’t afraid to take it just a step further. He would have walked away from this world if he could, if that would have meant anything. If it wouldn’t have resulted in another nameless hacker taking his place, another cog in the wheel of this broken system.

Lots of secret agents met an untimely end, but Seven had hoped his superior skills would be enough to keep him safe. He had been wrong about that too. And now he was going to die in service to an ugly line of work that he absolutely hated.

Was it any wonder that he was slightly depressed?

Of course, there had been one person who had made his life all worth it. The one good thing he had thought, until recently, he had done with his life. V had broken the truth to him after the party, and Seven had not spoken to him since.

Saeran …

He had thought Saeran at least had been happy. But recently that hope had been dashed too.

_I should have expected this_ , Seven thought wryly. _I should have seen it coming_. An intelligence agency had already recruited one brother. It was only natural that another had taken interest in the second. V had told him that when tested, Saeran was revealed to have the same potential as himself.

Seven had been separated from his twin for 7 years, and when they had met again, by chance investigating the same hacker, Saeran had to pretend not to know him, in order to protect him and Seven both. And that was the last time they would probably ever see each other.

Again, was it any wonder that he was slightly depressed … ?

When a gunshot went off in a nearby alley, Seven nearly fell off the stairs.

_Was that … them?_ Seven stood up suddenly, hissing in silent pain at the sudden stretch. _It must have been._ Some idiot had let their weapon misfire and had inadvertently given away their position. Or … maybe they had mistaken another innocent person for him. It was possible that these people were so intent on killing him that they were willing to shoot whomever happened to cross their path, just to be sure.

_Please, God, not that._

Against his better judgement, Seven crept to the edge of the sidewalk, hugging the shadows as much as he could. His self-preservation was dead already, and curiosity got the better of him. After all, if he was going to be killed, didn’t he deserve to know something about his attackers?

Seven heard voices, then saw three people move into the street, two clearly supporting a third. When he was sure none were facing his direction he retreated backwards a few steps. There was a building between their line of sight, but he could still hear them.

“Where did he get you, Sungjin?”

“My … shin …” came a voice, trembling with pain. “I almost had him … I didn’t see …”

“…yeah, that looks pretty bad. Listen, I’ll call Namki to pick you up. Tell him to alert everybody else that this guy is armed.”

“Damn … I was practically on top of him! …”

Seven stared. Armed? Him?

He was pretty sure he wasn’t.

So who had shot this man?

_They must have picked a fight with a criminal._ The realization filled Seven with dread. He didn’t just have these trained professionals out to get him, he also had some lone gunman in his vicinity, planning God-knew-what.

“Also, tell the others to close in on our position. We know where he is now; there’s no need to spread out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get that wound looked after, Sungjin.”

Well.

_Well shit._

Some ghost of Seven’s self-preservation must have come back to haunt him, because moments later he was sprinting down the alley, as fast and as quiet as he could.

The gunman hadn’t been him, but he still had the bad luck to be nearby. And now, all 11 murder squads were driving near this position.

_Yup, I’m_ definitely _dying tonight._

* * *

Ray knew how, but he still hated using guns.

That was usually _Saeran’s_ job.

But these bastards had forced him to unload a bullet on them after one had cornered him against a wall.

_Well, at least he’s probably not dead_. Saeran had been screaming on him to shoot the man through the heart, or better yet the head, but Ray’s shaking hands had aimed for the leg instead. Ray wasn’t stupid, he knew any gunshot could prove fatal, but hopefully the man would have enough time to get medical attention before he bled out.

Hopefully.

_THESE PEOPLE_ , Saeran snarled, _ARE TRYING TO KILL YOU!_

_I’m aware, thanks_ , Ray shot back, turning a corner that hopefully lead him deeper into Jingerbread’s back streets. There was a reason, besides his hatred for violence, that he had ignored Saeran’s commands. He had already lost control to his double once tonight. That was not going to happen again.

_I SAVED YOUR LIFE._

_My life wouldn’t need saving if you hadn’t lured the Savior out into the garden. In fact, she might still be with us._ Ray felt his eyes blur with tears and wiped them away mid-stride. Now was not the time to grieve.

He turned another corner and kept running.

* * *

It had barely been five minutes, but Seven was panicking. He had tried to be as nondescript as possible, but some of the killers had still spotted him dodging around a building. They had chased after him ever since, and, though he hadn’t heard their voices in a while, he didn’t dare to slow down to check to see if he lost them.

Nor could he be sure that he wasn’t about to run into another group.

Seven slowed down as the alley he was sprinting through came to an intersection. No way was he running into a trap. He paused, listening carefully for any breathing, using the corner of his eyes to detect movement in the dark. When he was sure, sure as he could be, that he was alone, he stepped into the intersection, preparing to continue his escape.

The resulting collision took his breath away.

* * *

“Ow …”

Ray curled on the pavement, clutching his head. Seriously? Two bad falls in one night? And what the _hell_ had he run into, anyway?

“ _Ow_ …” Ray hissed as he came to his knees, a burning sensation aching into each muscle. His tired body was reinstating its need for rest.

As if there was time for that now.

“Ouch …” came another groan.

Ray sighed. Okay, time to stop feeling sorry for himself.

“God … that … fucking hurt.”

Ray yelped, skidding as far away from the sound as possible. “Who’s there!” When no answer was forthcoming, he pulled out his pistol in front of him. “I’m warning you, I’m armed!”

Ray heard a sharp intake of breath, then a scuttling sound. He adjusted his aim.

“Don’t move!”

“Easy there … “ the voice in the dark sounded just as breathless and terrified as Ray felt. “Let’s take it easy …”

“Easy?” Ray spat. “That’s right, make it sound like _I’m_ the crazy one. Like you haven’t been trying to kill me all night!”

“I … what … ?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!”

“I … that wasn’t …” Ray heard a sigh. “I guess you’ve finally caught me, huh?”

“That’s right!” Ray’s voice was angry, but inside he was panicking. What was he supposed to do with this man? He sure as hell didn’t want to kill him, but leaving him be could be just as deadly. 

_KILL HIM._

_Fuck you._

“If you want to keep living,” Ray said. “Start talking.”

“…about what?”

“ _You know._ About why you’re doing what you’re doing. Who hired you, anyway?”

“I’m … afraid I can’t answer that.”

“ _Excuse me?”_

“Sorry. Company policy. You know how it is.”

Ray gave an angry huff, then flipped the safety off his gun. This man was calling his bluff. Only, he couldn’t afford for it to remain a bluff. “It seems you’ve left me no choice.”

“It seems I haven’t,” the voice agreed. “Look … before you take me out, could you at least tell me what this is all about, please?”

Ray paused. “Huh?”

“Like, who did I piss off that you sent _eleven_ squads after me? You don’t have to give me an exact name, but a rough idea would be nice.”

“I … that’s …” _How many did he say?_

“Wait … don’t tell me this is about that cat’s paw thing, is it? That was a joke!”

“What are you talking about? There are _eleven_ of those groups out there? How many people were hired to kill me?”

There was a pregnant silence.

“Okay, now I’m confused,” the voice said. “I thought I was the one getting killed tonight? Who are you?”

Ray groaned and pushed a hand to his forehead. He wasn’t meant for this. The Savior had been right, the only thing he could do reliably was hack. Apparently, even getting straight answers from this complete stranger was beyond him.

“Wait … you’re not that guy who shot that other guy, are you?”

Ray looked up. “What did you say?”

“I was hiding and I heard a gunshot … then I saw this man limp out from an alley. He had been shot in the leg. Was that you?”

“So you _admit_ that you’re one of them?”

“I … no, of course not! I was hiding from them! I have intelligence that these people are after _me._ Friend … I think there’s been a mistake. These people have been chasing me through the dark all night. I think they might have mistaken you for me.”

Ray lowered his gun. Could that be true? It certainly made more sense than Mint Eye sending people after him. “You might be right,” he said.

“Yeah … sorry about that. Just please don’t do whatever you were planning to do with that gun to me.”

“Wait.” Ray rounded on him. “Wait, that doesn’t make sense. How are these people after you? They saw me …”

“I mean, in the dark, they could’ve confused-“

“No, you don’t understand. They _saw me_. Held a flashlight to my face and said ‘that’s him’. How could they have mistaken me for you?”

“I … don’t know. We look alike?”

“We almost certainly don’t. Trust me, I’m very unique looking.”

“Yeah, me too …”

“Is it possible they thought you were me?”

“No, uh-uh. Pretty sure they got a good look at my face too.”

“Then … ?” Ray let the question hang.

“… they must …”

“… be after both of us?” Ray finished.

“I mean, that could be the case,” the voice said. “It makes more sense to send eleven squads after two people instead of one. Well, slightly more sense.”

“How do you know there are eleven? Did you count them all or something?”

“Nah, a … colleague tipped me off. Do you know why they’re after you?”

Ray fell silent, a lump forming in his throat. “They think … they think I’ve killed someone.”

“And did you?”

“No! It wasn’t me!”

“All right, all right … keep your voice down, please.”

“Sorry …”

“Look,” the man suddenly became intent. “Up until now, I was pretty sure I was going to die tonight. But now that I’ve met you … we have a better shot getting out of this alive together. I know I just met you, and if you’re in the same line of work as I am, I honestly can’t give you a good reason to trust me. But-“

“Let’s do it,” Ray said.

“What?”

“I’m in. This alliance, or teamwork, or whatever, I’m in.”

“… just like that?”

“Yeah. There are people who I have to go after … the real killers. I can’t do that if I’m dead. Besides, you’re the only person who hasn’t tried to kill me tonight. I think I can trust you.”

“Oh … well great!” Ray heard a soft moan. “I’m standing up now. You don’t still have that gun pointed at me, do you?”

“Umm …” Ray flipped the safety back on and shoved the gun back into its holster. “No.”

“Great.” A hand grabbed him in the dark, and he flinched. “Follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“I have a plan.”

* * *

Seven didn’t have a plan.

What he did have, though, was a co-conspirator, a firearm, a predilection to causing mayhem, and a desire to exact sweet, sweet revenge on the people who had caused him so much stress tonight.

In his opinion, all of those things were better than a plan.

“Stay close,” Seven whispered, keeping a tight grip on his new friend’s shoulder. Every minute or so, the man would try to pull away.

“ _Where_ are we going?”

“Just a little farther. Shh.”

The man heaved an aggravated sigh but kept pace beside him.

Good. Seven didn’t like to judge, but he sensed that the person next to him had the emotional reflexes of a little bunny rabbit. His intimidation tactics said as much. Seven had been held at gunpoint by various individuals throughout his life, but few people had nearly cried while doing so.

Hence, the arm on the shoulder. Seven couldn’t afford to have this man bolt down an alley at the next bump in the night.

_And here we are_. Seven slowed and pulled the man closer to him as they came to a gap between two buildings. He had been constructing a mental map of the locations of the murder squads ever since the first. By his calculations, the next one should be here.

“What’s this?” The man dropped his voice to a level beneath quiet. Good thing he had the common sense to do that much.

“They might be here. We’re going to scoot forward and check.”

“And … if they are here?”

“Then we’ll see what we can do.”

Seven felt a shudder pass through his companion, but then he stiffened resolutely. Confident that he wouldn’t bolt, Seven let him go. In the dim light, Seven saw him take one step forward, then another.

_Oh crap._ Quick as he could, Seven seized his friend again, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and pinning him to his chest. “ _What are you doing?”,_ he hissed in his ear.

“I … ” the man struggled against him, but quietly. “You said go look!”

“Not like _that._ ” Seven placed both hands on the man’s shoulders, forcing him first to his knees, then onto his belly. “Do you know what an army crawl is?”

“Like in movies?”

_Christ._ Seven had thought this man was an agent, like himself. He was beginning to doubt that assumption. “Look, I’ll go first. Don’t follow unless you know what you’re doing.”

Seven hit the dirt, then with great care pulled his hood over his face. He didn’t want his bright hair or the glint off his glasses to give him away. When he was as invisible as he could make himself, he began to pull forward toward the opening.

Despite his display of confidence, Seven was really dreading crawling down this alley. If he was spotted it would practically be a death trap. So he was relieved when just a few meters afforded him a good look at the outgoing street.

Just as he suspected. A group of people milling about a parked car. They weren’t directly in the alleyway itself, but they were close enough to keep a good eye on it.

So his pattern was correct. Seven brought up the mental map in his head. If he really, really wanted to take somebody out, how would he do it? Vanderwood had said there were at least eleven of these groups, but that was a strange number and he couldn’t afford to be so conservative.

Right. With his target as the epicenter, he’d send one murder squad after him, and he’d have four other cars on nearby streets ready to block off any path of escape. Since he was, apparently, extremely devoted to getting the job done right, he’d also set up a second ring, composed of five or six cars, ready to catch his target in case he broke through the first.

Six plus four plus one was eleven. But. His attackers’ actions tonight spoke of an insane desire to see him dead and an almost otherworldly thoroughness in carrying that out.

Seven grit his teeth and drew a third ring in his head. Murder squads numbers twelve through … twenty, call it twenty. The ones Vanderwood and his agency hadn’t picked up on yet, probably because they more inconspicuous than one through eleven.

If he was correct, the murder squad at his current location was part of the second ring. Seven remembered hearing earlier the order to close ranks. These people were staying put, which meant squads twelve through twenty were probably coming to patch up the second ring.

Well. They honestly couldn’t have picked a better location to take him out. This densely populated area of Jingerbread City was basically a chokehold. He suspected there was no alley he could run down anymore that wouldn’t lead him to a street being watched by these guys. He was trapped.

“That’s … them, right?”

Seven half-turned to see that his companion had followed him into the alley. Following Seven’s lead, he had pulled the hood of a dark jacket around his head, obscuring much of his hair and face. His crouch precisely mirrored Seven’s own, and Seven honestly hadn’t heard him slink down the alley beside him.

_Well, at least he’s a fast learner._

Seven nodded in response to the question. Then he carefully turned himself around and motioned for the man to follow.

Of course, none of his present calculations took his new friend into account. He had to remember that and not get too overconfident. Seven honestly didn’t know how the man fit into this picture. He might have suspected he was a trap, if not for the fact that he passed up a perfectly good chance to kill him earlier.

“Ok,” Seven said, when they had turned a corner and were in the safe dark shadows once more, “here’s the thing. I don’t know how to get us out of this.”

There was silence for a moment. Then the man said, “I thought you said we’d have a better chance working together.”

Seven nodded. “I did. And in any other situation, we might. But this … this is just too big, friend. I think these people have formed a ring around us, and I think there’s even more of them out there than I originally thought. I’m normally good at giving people the slip … but this is just beyond me.”

Seven heard an angry scoff. “If you were going to be absolutely useless to me, you should have said so from the beginning.”

Seven grimaced. “Look …”

“Thank you so much for wasting my time.” Seven heard the scuffle of feet on concrete. A moment later he realized the man was walking away.

“Wait!” Seven leapt to his feet and grabbed at the dark. He was relieved when his hands closed on flesh. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Let _go_ of me.”

“You don’t even know where the rest of those people are!”

“I said _let go_.” Seven heard the man grunt, then felt a blow hammer his side. Stunned, he let go, falling to the pavement with a gasp.

_Oh, excellent._ This bastard couldn’t know it, but he’d hit him right where it hurt most. Seven inhaled sharply and instantly regretted it. Countless points on his body came alight with pain, old hurts that hadn’t had time to heal yet.

_Ouch, ouch, ouch._

He couldn’t help the soft cry that escaped his lips.

* * *

Ray drew up short.

The man let out another whimper, but softer this time and more quickly suppressed. His breathing was ragged, and he was clearly trying hard not to gasp in pain.

_Oh, come on. I didn’t hit him that hard._

But as Ray listened, he became convinced this man wasn’t faking it. His barely heard cries and muffled gasps weren’t attempts to garner sympathy from Ray. Not that that would have worked. Ray was too familiar with the sounds of pain to be moved by them.

So why had he stopped? Ray made to keep moving.

He only made it a few steps.

He would later say that it was the instinct to hide that touched him. The man could have groaned a bit and the hitmen around the corner likely wouldn’t have heard him, but he was taking care to hide his pain from Ray. From Ray, who was unlikely to turn around and cause him more.

But he had done it automatically, as if by instinct.

Ray was familiar with that instinct. It had kept him alive when he was younger.

Still, if Ray hadn’t been at the end of his rope, exhausted, bereaved, and convinced he was about to die, he wouldn’t have turned around. It was second nature at this point to discard any internal impulses that came up within him.

But something made this one stick.

“Hey,” Ray said, crouching near the man. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you real bad?”

“ _No …”_

Ray blinked, then let out a short laugh at the blatant lie.

“In that case I’m sorry for _not_ hurting you.”

The man didn’t respond, and Ray winced inwardly at his terrible joke. “Look, I really am sorry.”

“Heh …” Ray heard the man sit up. “In that case … I forgive you for _not_ taking cheap shots.”

“Fair enough.”

They sat together in silence for a moment.

“Are we really going to die tonight?” Ray finally asked.

“Probably. But unless you want to make it quick, you should just stick here for the time being.”

“Its just … I can’t die. Not yet. There are things I have to do first.”

“Like what?”

Ray grimaced. “Someone killed a person I loved … love. And they might be putting some other people I’m technically now responsible for in danger. I have to make sure they don’t have any power to do that before I go.”

“Wow. That’s actually pretty heroic.”

Ray shrugged.

“I wish I had a good reason to live.”

That statement had Ray scoffing in surprise. “You’re trying very hard not to get killed tonight. Surely you must have something.”

“Not really. I have some friends who might miss me … but I don’t know how surprised they’d be if I suddenly disappeared. They have an idea about what I do for a living.”

“And what’s that?”

“Illegal shit.” Ray waited for the man to elaborate, but he left it at that.

“I see. So is that why we’re dying tonight?”

“I honestly have no clue why these people are after me.”

“And your plan is to just sit here until they find you?”

“Yep. Pretty much.”

“That plan sucks.”

Ray waited for a reply, but he didn’t get one.

“If you did have a reason to live, could you think of a better plan?”

“Um … I don’t know, maybe? Why, are you going to try and sell me one?”

Ray shut his eyes. He didn’t like relying on others. And this guy was a stranger to him. But from what he had said, he was more knowledgeable than Ray about dealing with situations such as this. For better or for worse, he was Ray’s shot of getting out of this mess alive.

“Is that why you went into the ‘illegal shit’ trade? You had no reason to live?”

“Well … that’s … complicated.”

“How so?”

“I didn’t … I don’t like what I do. But I did it at first because I hoped it would give this other person a shot at a better life.”

“Sounds like shaky logic to me.”

“Yeah … I was younger back then. More naive.”

“And what happened to this person? Did they die?”

“What? No!” Ray flinched, but the man quieted his voice immediately. “No, no … They’re alive. It’s just … he’s stuck in the same life that I am now. All this time I though I was protecting him, but I really just screwed over both of us.” The man sighed. “I suppose I should be grateful that he’s even alive. But I wanted to give him more than that.”

“Wow. You really fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

Ray chose his next words carefully. “And this person … is there no way you can still help him?”

“Probably not.”

“ _Probably_ not? Or definitely not?”

“Prob … I don’t … Why do you ask?”

“It sounds like you’re in a better position than I am. The person I cared for? She’s dead. Yes, there are a few things I can still do for her, but after that I’m basically worthless. At least your person is still alive. It’s easier to make right with the living than the dead.”

Ray heard the man let out a slow exhale. “You’re right. I never thought of it like that.”

Emboldened, Ray continued. “In fact, you’re doing a disservice to this person right now: by acting as if he’s dead already. When there’s still has to be at least _something_ you can do for him. And …” He latched on to a flash of inspiration. “Maybe the first time what you did wrong was keeping too many secrets. In my experience, secrets only hurt those around you. But if you went and found this person now, you wouldn’t need secrets. Maybe you two could work something out together, help each other.” Ray paused his speech, breathless. “So, um … could you please think of a plan that involves us getting out of this alive?”

In the dark, Ray waited for a response.

He got a sputtered snort that quickly turned into silent laughter. “And I was just about to ask what your angle was.”

Ray winced. “Sorry.” _Was I too direct?_

“No … no. That was good. Thank you. I needed to hear that.” With a groan, the man got to his feet. “All right, no promises, but I’ll try to think of something. You’ve convinced me.”

Ray practically leapt up. “Ok, great! Because I’m pretty sure you’re my only chance of surviving the night.”

The man chuckled at Ray’s enthusiasm. “Well, you might be mine too.”

Ray thought back to the several times he had nearly been killed already. “I don’t know about that. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Come on, don’t sell yourself short. Maybe you don’t know what you’re doing, but you’ve survived this as long as I have. And you managed to convince me to try and defeat insurmountable odds. You’re doing something right.”

Ray smiled, surprised at the praise. “Well … maybe.”

“Listen … uh … what’s your name?”

“People call me Ray.”

“Ok. Ray. You sound like a good person. I don’t get to meet a lot of good people, doing what I do. If we live to see tomorrow I promise to help you track down whoever killed this person you loved.”

Ray was shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid I can’t promise much more than that … but I’ll do my best to help you.”

“But … why?”

“Like I said, I don’t get to meet a lot of good people. So I try to do some good with the opportunities I get.”

“In that case, I’ll help you find this person of yours.”

The man seemed taken aback. “You don’t have to …”

“No I do … if you help me track down the killers, you’ll be mixing with some dangerous people. Please let me return that favor.”

“I … thank you.”

Somehow, in the dark, they clasped hands.

“Okay,” the man said. “I do have some semblance of a plan, and it involves a lot of running away while not dying. Are you ready to hear it?”

Ray’s body ached at the thought of more running, but he steeled himself. “Sure. What is it?”

“Ok. So I figure, our best shot of escaping is to get past those people around that corner. So I need you to crawl down that alley, like that army crawl you just did, and shoot your gun in the air. Then turn around and run like hell. Meanwhile, your buddy Seven will be ready with a surprise for those …”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Look, I know it’s a terrible plan, but it’s the best I’ve got.”

“No … ‘your buddy Seven’ … what did you mean by …”

“Oh! Did I not introduce myself?”

Ray felt a prick of foreboding in his stomach. “No. You didn’t.”

“My mistake.” In the dark, Ray saw the man make a sweeping gesture. “My name is Agent 707, Defender of Justice and Wage Slave Extraordinaire!!! … But I think you and I are going to be friends, so you can go ahead and call me Luciel, if that’s easier to remember.”

Ray felt the sudden need to sit down. Or pass out. Or maybe just die right there.

“Um … you still there, Ray?”

Ray fumbled with the phone in his pocket, trying and failing to yank it out with shaking hands. This had to be a joke. It had to be … had to be …

In his head, Saeran whispered, _See, I told you you should have killed him._

“Are you shocked? Hehe, I admit I’m somewhat a celebrity in the underground community. Still, I never expected to make somebody speechless with my presence. I usually leave that to Zen …”

_Got it._ Ray yanked his phone out and turned on its flashlight feature. Then, with a desperate prayer of hope, he held it up.

In the dark, two boys were suddenly illuminated. One was clutching his phone and trembling with barely suppressed anger. The other was flinching from the sudden light source.

“Um … hey, that’s kind of bright. You might want to put that away.”

Ray exhaled. This wasn’t a trick. This wasn’t a joke. This was real.

“Really, those guys might see … _Oh my God._ How in the … _Saeran?”_

The person he’d just entrusted his life to was Luciel.

Ray threw his hands up. “Oh _come on_!”


End file.
